


A collection

by qwertysweetea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Falling In Love, Feelings, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, In-Laws, LGBTQ positive religious environment, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: A collection: in which Connor is hopelessly in love.Follows 'Meeting the parents'. It's not important but it sets the scene well.Headcanon:McKinley has super loving and supportive parents and a mum who likes to play matchmaker because he deserves that.





	A collection

**Author's Note:**

> (Potental) prior reading: [Meeting the parents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244650)

i.

A knock at his bedroom door shifted Connor out of his daydreams and back to the textbook in front of him. Pen still in his hand, caught mid-word in his notetaking, Mrs. McKinley opened the door seconds later to see her hard-working college boy give a look that reflected one who had been dragged out of revising a tedious topic like Quality Assurance rather than one who had been staring blankly at Quality Assurance notes while imagining preforming soppy, domestic tasks with their crush.

“I was just wondering if you wanted anything to drink dear. You haven’t been down since breakfast.”

Connor cleared his throat, only noticing at the mention of fluid that he was thirsty. Hungry too, but not unbearably so. Since his return from Africa the year before he’d become hyperaware of the distinction between want and need. He overindulged far less, sometimes the line got a little blurry.

“I’ll come and get myself something.”

He took care of himself a lot more too. It was uncomfortable to think how ready he had been to let his mother run backward and forwards to get things like food and drink for him. He pushed himself off his desk chair and stretched out his limbs. Making his way past his mother with a soft, grateful smile.

As he disappeared down the stares in a series of light-footed taps, Mrs. McKinley gently padded into his room and over to his desk. His notebook lay open, notes laid out neatly compared to the ones in the battered reporter's pad off to its side. Doodles and scribbles, pen tests and reminders… and a little note at the bottom next to a small heart that read _Heavenly Father, I think I really might love him_.

She slowly padded her way back to the door, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as the stairs creaked under her son’s light steps.

“I know you’re studying hard, but don’t forget the Church gathering this Saturday.”

“I haven’t.” Connor smiled back as he shuffled past her, glass tucked in the nook of his elbow and plate in hand.

“Maybe you could invite that um, friend...” She paused, smile finally consuming her lips “Elder Price. It would be nice for him to meet the congregation.”

There was no angle Connor could turn his head to hide the blush from his mother. Maybe he wasn't ready just yet.

ii.

The world might as well have ended the day Mrs. McKinley found out Kevin was dairy intolerant. No matter how many times Connor said ‘Kevin said it’s okay, he doesn’t mind’, he couldn’t shift the murderous glint out of her icy stares.

Mrs. McKinley was nothing if not a host. She enjoyed being a host, showing off her home, making her guests feel like they had a place in her perfect little world; in her eyes, nothing showed people there wasn’t a space for them clearer than trying to offer them sandwiches that would reduce them to a mound of crippling, spasming pain in the middle of her living room.

She was equal parts relieved and horrified when Kevin asked if she’d used spread with buttermilk, bread hovering centimeters from his lips.

Mr. McKinley had long since vacated the room. The moment the door had closed on Kevin he was up the stairs, taking advantage of Connor’s lovesick goodbyes to get a head start. He loved his wife but 25 years of marriage had taught him when to put an arm around her shoulder and when to disappear into the study for a couple of hours.

“Connor McKinley!”

Connor had barely made it two steps.

iii.

“Hey Mrs. McKinley.” Kevin smiled as the door opened within seconds of knocking. On time as always, he didn’t worry about sheltering his books from the rain.

“Mornin’ Kevin. You head on up, he’s already at his desk.”

It didn’t appear to occur to anyone present that two and a half hours might have been a bit of an excessive drive for a Saturday study session. It had become a bit of a habit, and one that Mrs. McKinley and her husband had embraced more readily than either Connor or Kevin had imagined.

After the second month of weekly visits, Connor had stopped anxiously anticipating the ‘maybe you should start focusing more on your other friends dear’ talk. He considered that maybe they were happy he was studying, or that he had found another good Mormon man with as strong a work and study ethic as he had to keep him motivated.

“Maybe if we invited Kevin for the next service, he would be more comfortable making the next move.” He heard his mother say one night, though the closed over living room door as he came down for a drink.

“Don’t push him, Mariam.”

“I just don’t understand what’s taking that boy so gosh-darn long. He and Kevin are a wonderful pair. He’s good for our boy, makes him stronger and he’s gonna need that going forward.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will happen.” His father had responded with tenderness in his voice, and Connor had made his way back upstairs without a drink and his head full of thoughts.

He thinks, for the first time without holding himself back, that he had been ready for a long time; he hoped that he could do it with his parents at his side and Kevin at the other. Suddenly he is hit, when back in his room with the door closed to prying eyes, with the realisation that he is a stones-throw away from getting everything his 22-year-old self could want.

iv.

It’s hard to write once someone else’s fingers lace with yours around your pen, but Connor hasn’t had the presence of mind to continue his note-making since it had happened. In the back of his head, he could hear one of his friends making a joke about him ‘short-circuiting’. It had been funny when they were laughing kind-heartedly at someone else, but experiencing it for himself made him feel pangs of commiseration for his lovesick brethren.

It was one of many things he was feeling. The only name he could seem to give it was ‘overwhelmed’.

Kevin hadn’t looked up from his textbooks, his own note-taking seeming to thrive, ignorant of the internal storm that he was inflicting on the other. If he was nervous, it wasn’t showing.

.

The inside of Kevin’s head is a medley of disembodies screams and an angel choir.

v.

The church barbeque is teeming with people, as they usually are when graced with such lovely weather. It is particularly blistering with minimal shade and when Connor allows himself a moment away from all the formalities and introductions, he closes his eyes and thinks back to the closing days of his mission.

Sure, it wasn’t nearly as hot or dry as it had been then but something about the sun on his arms brought on the tickling of nostalgia. He could remember how the air smelled, how it filled his chest with pride and contentment as his lungs swelled with it. They had achieved so much, pushed good into the world. More than that, he had exceeded his own expectations and out-grown his self-doubts.

A hand touched his lower back. It felt natural, as if he had taken himself back there with his thoughts. He smiled, eyes opening to the buzzing atmosphere: the middle-aged men gathered around their barbeques, smoke flowing over their wives as they sat at the tables talking amongst themselves, children playing together on the grass.

Arms weaved their way around him, Kevin’s chin resting on his shoulder. He would have written down how his heart stuttered, except it was no longer memorable. Kevin had been making his heart stutter from the moment they had met.

“We did good.” Kevin sighed beside his eyes, voice heavy with the same languid longing he had felt moments before.

“Yes we did, Elder Price.” He giggled, turning in those encompassing arms to face the other. “Yes we did.” A giggle escaped his lips, and how couldn’t it?


End file.
